Beauty and the Bot
by Garden-of-Feathers
Summary: An egotistical man is cursed and turned into a mechanical being, with less than two years to change his ways and find somebody to love him for the human he is underneath. A retelling of Beauty and the Beast with Dino from Transformers!


**Hello everyone! Sorry I'm not updating my other story but this idea came to me ever since I became obsessed with the TRANSFORMERS movies! Now, as you may have noticed, this is a Transformers/Beauty and the Beast crossover, starring the ever-underrated Dino :)**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own either Transformers OR Beauty and the Beast. **

**Please leave a comment but don't attack it-there's a fine line between constructive criticism and just being mean.**

Once upon a time, not so long ago, there was a large white mansion at the far end of Eagle Avenue, so big that it made all the other houses look like sheds. Here lived a very attractive young man of age twenty-one—tall and lean with short dark hair, striking blue eyes, sharp facial angles and a heart-stopping smile—but with his great beauty came great vanity. His ego was bigger than a float in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, and he wasn't afraid to use his looks when he needed to.

At his college, he would swagger down the hallways with the confidence of a movie star, and the freshman girls looked upon him as such, with both awe and contempt. They loved to observe him, but they hated his callous and arrogant personality.

And as if his cockiness wasn't enough, he was also lustful. If he was pleased by a woman's image, he would easily sweet-talk her into his arms, take her out for one night, and then move onto the next. Girls were sport, and his own self-image was an art.

But perhaps worst of all was his diehard obsession with his car. Being the proud owner of a cherry red Ferrari 458 Italia, he was as fussy with his car as he was with his own looks. Nobody, not even his butlers and maids, could even go near it, and when he wasn't holed up in his basement playing Call of Duty on his 80-inch LED television, he was constantly shining the Ferrari's bright red coat, even when it couldn't get any shinier.

One day, a homely girl rang the doorbell of the white mansion. Her skin was milky-pale, and there was no hair on her head; her lips were vacant of color, and there were dark rings under her catlike eyes.

When he opened the door, she told him he had only twenty-four hours to live, and that one of the last things she wanted was to kiss the most handsome man she'd ever seen.

Disgusted by her appearance, he denied her the request and slammed the door in her face. But as he was walking away, the door was blown open by a powerful, warm gust of wind, to reveal a gorgeous golden-haired angel with mechanical wings, standing there on the porch with blazing eyes set on him, as bright and blinding as the sun.

"You are the shallowest human being I have ever encountered," she said in a voice like music, with what sounded like a man and a women singing in loud unison. "Your money, your looks, and your material possessions are more important to you than a young woman's life. For your selfishness, you will be punished."

The angel then sent a curse upon him, and when he ran in front of the nearest mirror, he found he was no longer human. Instead of the handsome man he had been only ten seconds ago, he was staring into the reflection of a jagged red robot, with several body armor plates coincidentally identical to the hue and parts of his red Ferrari. His eyes were now glowing blue bulbs somewhere in his red-framed robotic face, so alien now that there didn't seem to be any sign he was ever human at all.

"You have become your own vanity," said the angel hauntingly. "You will find this transformation to seem _cool_ to you at first, but I warn you now… you have until your twenty-third birthday…"

Pointing a long finger at the man-turned-robot's wrist, the angel indicated what looked like a gas gauge, its needle set on the black "F" for full.

"When your gauge needle hits 'empty', your time will be up… unless you can change your ways, and find someone to love you as a good human _underneath_ the armor, you will permanently become a _car_, and your soul will cease to exist…"

"No," he pleaded, in a voice that was lower and… _metallic_-sounding. "_Per favore_! I'm sorry! I'll change, just please, turn me back!"

"You won't learn anything if I change you back now. Besides, the curse has been placed, now it must run its course. You and everyone in this house have become what so plagues humanity today—technology. You control the fate of not only yourself, but also of the others in the household. Remember, you have less than two years…"

She disappeared in a beam of glorious light, leaving the robot there in his mansion, surrounded by all the familiar things that had suddenly become so unfamiliar to him.

He roared in anger, slamming the newly-formed blades in his arms against the wall. They were so sharp that they tore two huge holes in the drywall, and once he wrenched them free, he ran for the stairs. Each of his steps was heavy and loud, with a _clang_ every time his mechanical feet pounded the floor.

_This can't be happening_, he thought, _it must be a dream. I am dreaming!_

But the next day he woke up, just the same as he had gone to sleep. His new jagged metal body had torn his bed apart. In a rage, he threw a chair clear across the room, but because of his new robotic strength, it crashed through his window and out onto the front lawn, where it broke into pieces.

Later that night, he went into the garage to check on the one thing he thought he'd have left—his car.

It was gone.

As the days went by, he locked himself in his room, wallowing in his misery, cursing the angel over and over for changing him like this. For a moment, he thought being a monstrous robot wouldn't be so bad—he could scare the heads off the annoying little kids next door, or slice clear through Jake Alexon's car with his new arm blades.

And yet, the more he thought about it, the worse he felt. Had he really deserved this?

_No,_ he told himself. _I just need to get some chick to say 'I love you' and I'll be fine._

However, it wouldn't exactly be easy going up to some girl in the mall looking the way he did and just exchange numbers. That was the problem… nobody would know who he was, and even if they did, they'd remember him as the pompous bastard he'd always been.

Weeks went by, and soon months… He had stopped going to school. He wouldn't even leave his house anymore, or even his room, for that matter. In his anger, he had torn his room apart. All the photographs he'd owned of himself were shredded, as were his clothes and the dressers that held them, and his television screen was shattered, its wires tangled into impossible knots.

It was hopeless, and he knew it. There was no way a girl would ever look at him like a human being, because he _wasn't _one. He was a monster—a mechanical monster.

How could a girl ever love someone, or something, like that?


End file.
